You’re standing at the edge. The water is rushing past your ankles, cold and relentless, pulling at your heels with a weight that feels way heavier than just H2O. Most people spend their entire existence trying to swim upstream because they’re terrified of the edge. But here’s the thing: life is a waterfall, and honestly, you’re going over whether you like it or not.
Gravity doesn't care about your five-year plan.
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When Serj Tankian of System of a Down growled about "aerials in the sky" and how we lose ourselves in the narrow-mindedness of the "ground," he was tapping into a terrifyingly accurate metaphor for the human condition. Water doesn't stop. It doesn't negotiate with the cliffside. It just flows, drops, and reforms.
The Physics of Letting Go
Most of us treat our lives like stagnant ponds. We want stillness. We want to know exactly where the boundaries are. But nature doesn't work that way. If you look at the hydrology of a place like Niagara Falls or Victoria Falls, you see a chaotic system that somehow maintains a sense of "oneness" despite being in a constant state of falling apart.
That’s us.
We are a collection of experiences, atoms, and bad decisions falling through time at 9.8 meters per second squared. The anxiety we feel—that constant, low-grade humming in the back of your skull—usually comes from trying to grab onto the rocks on the way down. Have you ever tried to grab a wet rock while falling? It doesn't end well. You just end up with scraped palms and the same inevitable destination.
Why the "Stagnant Pond" Mentality is Killing Your Growth
If water stops moving, it rots. It becomes a breeding ground for bacteria and mosquitoes. Human beings are the same. When we stop "falling"—when we stop taking risks or accepting the inherent flux of existence—we stagnate.
Psychologists often talk about "flow states," a concept popularized by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi. He argued that the highest state of human experience is when we are so involved in an activity that nothing else seems to matter. You lose track of time. You become the water. But you can't get into a flow state if you're deathly afraid of the drop.
The System of a Down Connection: More Than Just Lyrics
When we say life is a waterfall, we have to talk about the 2001 hit "Aerials." It’s basically the unofficial anthem of this philosophy. The lyrics suggest that we are "the ones who want to choose" but "always want to play."
- We want the thrill of the fall.
- We want the safety of the shore.
- We can't have both.
Tankian and Daron Malakian weren't just writing a metal song; they were echoing ancient Heraclitean philosophy. Heraclitus famously said that you can't step into the same river twice. Why? Because the river has changed, and so have you. By the time your second foot hits the water, the previous molecules are already miles downstream.
If life is a waterfall, then every second you are a brand new version of yourself hitting the pool below. It’s kinda poetic if you don't think about the impact too hard.
Navigating the Turbulence of the Mid-Fall
Let's get practical. If you're currently in the "dropping" phase—maybe you lost a job, ended a relationship, or just realized your 20s are over—it feels like chaos. The mist is everywhere. You can't see the bottom.
The mistake most people make is trying to "fix" the fall. You can't fix gravity.
In physics, there's a term called laminar flow. It’s when fluid particles follow smooth paths in layers. It looks beautiful, almost like glass. Then there’s turbulent flow, which is a mess of eddies and swirls. Most people think their life should be laminar flow 24/7. That’s boring. It’s also impossible. The most interesting parts of a waterfall are the spots where the water hits an obstruction and turns into white-water foam.
That’s where the oxygen gets in.
Without the turbulence, the river down below wouldn't have the oxygen necessary to support fish and plant life. Your "messy" periods are literally aerating your soul. They are providing the oxygen for whatever version of you is going to swim away from the base of the falls.
The Illusion of Control in a Constant Downpour
We love our spreadsheets. We love our Google Calendars and our "10-step programs to a better you." But honestly? They’re just umbrellas in a monsoon.
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Expert geologists at agencies like the U.S. Geological Survey (USGS) study how waterfalls recede. Over thousands of years, the force of the water actually moves the waterfall backward. Horseshoe Falls at Niagara recedes about a foot a year on average.
Think about that.
Even the "fixed" point of the waterfall is moving. If the literal earth underneath the water is shifting, why do you expect your career or your mental health to stay in one spot? Acceptance isn't about giving up; it's about acknowledging the rate of recession.
Lessons from the Splash Pool
What happens at the bottom?
Eventually, the kinetic energy of the fall has to go somewhere. In a real waterfall, it carves out a "plunge pool." This is usually the deepest part of the river.
When you hit a low point in life, you are deepening your "plunge pool." You are creating a space that can hold more weight, more volume, and more depth. People who have never gone over a waterfall are shallow. They’re puddles. You can’t drown in a puddle, sure, but you can’t hide a treasure in one either.
How to Lean Into the Flow
Stop fighting the current.
It sounds like a Hallmark card, but it’s actually a survival strategy used by professional kayakers. If you get sucked into a "hydraulic" (a recirculating hole at the base of a drop), the worst thing you can do is fight to stay on the surface. You’ll just get tumbled until you drown. The pro move? Dive deeper. Get to the bottom of the current where the water is moving downstream and let it spit you out.
In life, this means leaning into the "fall."
- Acknowledge the momentum. If things are changing fast, let them. Don't try to save a dying version of your life.
- Keep your head up. Look at the horizon, not the rocks immediately in front of your face.
- Breath. Oxygen is the difference between a controlled descent and a panic attack.
The phrase life is a waterfall isn't a warning; it’s a job description. You are the water. Your only job is to flow.
Actionable Steps for the Downwardly Mobile
- Identify your "rocks." What are you trying to hold onto that is actually hurting your hands? Is it a defunct expectation? A version of yourself that doesn't exist anymore? Let it go.
- Embrace the white water. Next time everything feels chaotic, remind yourself that this is just "aeration." You are getting the oxygen you need for the next phase.
- Check your "recession rate." Look back five years. You aren't in the same place. The "falls" have moved. Stop trying to get back to where you were in 2021. That land is gone.
- Study the pool. Look at the depth you've gained from your previous "drops." Use that depth to anchor yourself when the next current comes through.
You're already in the air. You might as well enjoy the view on the way down. The water is cold, the drop is high, but the river continues long after the splash.
Start by auditing your current stressors. If a problem is "gravity-based"—meaning you have zero control over the outcome—stop treating it like a "steering-based" problem. Save your energy for the swim at the bottom. Flowing isn't a sign of weakness; it's the only way to reach the ocean.